


Will that be all?

by bettsc



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU-New York City, Bookstore Babe Betty, Brooding Jughead, F/M, Fluff, Gift Exchange, Literary references and banter, Riverdale Reindeer Games, Starbuck's Christmas Drink Level of Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:39:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettsc/pseuds/bettsc
Summary: Day Two of Riverdale Reindeer Games: Dancer“Will that be all?”He clears his throat, realizing he’s been staring at her a little too long.Or: Jughead Jones is in search of something to bring to a holiday gift exchange.





	Will that be all?

“No way, Archie. Nope, no thank you. I am _not_ going.”

“Come one dude, you know how Ronnie is about the holidays.”

Oh, he knows _just_ how Archie’s fiancé Veronica Lodge is when it comes to celebrating the holidays.  Everyone is involved, even if they don’t want to be.

He shakes his head again as he takes a small sip of the beer he’d been nursing since he met up with Archie. “You cannot force me into attending another one of these Christmas parties. I’m finally putting my foot down this year.”

Jughead had no reason to think that there was anything nefarious in the works when his best friend had texted him earlier in the day asking if wanted to get a drink after work. He should have known better though when he showed up to find Archie holding a box of fancy French macarons from Veronica and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Jug, you have to come. It’s tradition!”

He scoffs at Archie and cross his arms like a petulant child. “And I am choosing to break tradition this year.”

Jughead accepts that he tends to be a bit of _bah humbug_ during the holidays, and he chalks it up to his somewhat tragic upbringing. He’d grown up with two deadbeat parents, and when his mother had had enough, she had taken his baby sister Jelly Bean and run off to her parents in Ohio when Jughead was twelve. Not that his mother gave him much of a choice, but he knows that if he had left with her his dad would surely be six feet under instead of unhappily incarcerated in a small prison in upstate New York. He’d been sent away just after Jughead had turned eighteen and since then he’s spent Christmas since with Archie and his dad; and looked forward to the Christmas card and call he’d get from JB on Christmas Eve.

It’s not that Jughead doesn’t like Christmas, it’s just that he sees it as people being kind to one another for 31 days before regressing to their normal state of terrible. On top of that, now that Archie is engaged, he knows that his usual Christmas plans will be different, and it’s got him feeling a little out of sorts this year. He’s happy for his best friend, he is, but he can’t shake the sense of being left behind. It’s not that Jughead is lonely _per se_ but resigned that his lifestyle and personality skew towards that of an introvert.

This is exactly why parties like Veronica Lodge’s are his own version of holiday hell.

“Come on, “ Archie pleads. “I made sure Veronica included those little sliders you love so much in the catering order.”

Jughead grumbles. “I’d like to point out that one, I am offended that you’ve learned how to exploit my love of food to get what you want from me because it makes me feel cheap.” He points his index finger at his friend, “Two, I’ll go only if Veronica adds bacon _and_ cheese to those sliders.”

Archie’s eyes light up and he swings and arm across Jughead’s shoulders. “Anything you want, bro.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, “And who knows? Maybe you’ll even find a special someone under the mistletoe this year.”

There would no doubt be copious amounts of the green plant hung around the party. Veronica Lodge is a self proclaimed matchmaker and had at one point proceeded to lecture Jughead on the importance of finding a special someone during the holidays. It was something that she referred to as _cuffing season._

 _“Excuse me, what?”_ he had asked.

_“Cuffing season. You know, the time between Halloween and New Year’s where people generally flock to one another for fear of being alone during the holidays.”_

“You won’t regret this, Jug.”

He looks at his friend and thinks, _I sure hope not._

 

\--

 

_Two weeks later_

 

Jughead had been staring at proofs of annual reports and willing his eyes to not fall out of his head for the last three hours. On any given day, he likes his job. The people are nice, his schedule flexible enough to allow him time to work on his own writing in the off hours, and there’s usually a plethora of donuts in the break room. He’s been in charge of donor communications at the non-profit for a few years now and knows that this time of year is the busiest; when people are their most philanthropic before tax season. He’s about to get up to procure yet another cup of coffee when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and finds a text from Archie:

**_2:46 PM_ **

**_Don’t forget to pick up a present for the gift exchange ;)_ **

                                                                                                                                           _**2:48 PM**_

**_Is this reminder from Archie, or Veronica?_ **

**_2:51 PM_ **

**_…_ **

**_2:53 PM_ **

**_...._**

 

He snorts at the little dots that appear and disappear a few times before his suspicions are confirmed.

 

**_2:55 PM_ **

**_Just don’t forget to giftwrap it, Jughead_ **

                                                                                                                                                ** _2:57 PM_**

**_I won’t, Veronica_ **

 

“Coffee maker broken in the break room again?”

He looks up to see that his friend and coworker Kevin has perched himself on the corner of his desk.

“No, thankfully. It’s just a text from Veronica via Archie to remind about me buying a gift for her Christmas party. You’re still coming, right?”

Kevin and Veronica had met in college. Kevin ended up in the non-profit world, and was the person tasked with showing Jughead around on his first day. They got along surprisingly well with their shared interests in film and books; and Jughead could even deal with the constant fashion advice. Archie had dropped by the office one day to meet Jughead for lunch when Kevin spotted him and had been disappointed when informed that he might not be Archie’s type. He took it upon himself to introduce Archie to Veronica and the rest is history.

“You best believe it, friend. Picked up my present last week and had it gift wrapped.”

“Of course, Veronica couldn’t just throw a regular party, she has to include this stupid gift swap _thing._ ”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Jug don’t be such a Grinch. The whole moody and brooding thing works for you the rest of the year, not at Christmas.”

“Ow, Kev,” he clutches his hand over his heart. “You wound me. Plus, I’m not being a Grinch, I’m just saying I don’t understand the need to fulfill a holiday tradition that solely empowers our capitalistic society, is all.”

Kevin gives him a look of exhaustion. “Oh Jughead, you’re lucky I like you. But if you insist on complaining, why don’t just get something that you can gift yourself?”

He quirks his head in confusion at Kevin.

“What I’m saying is, why not just go out and buy yourself something, wrap it and make sure Veronica doesn’t see it, and then pick it out for yourself at the party,” he adds with a shrug.

Jughead lets the idea sink in for a moment. “That is not a bad idea, unless Veronica finds out. And don’t we have to pull numbers to see who goes first to pick?”

“Just leave that to me. I’m arriving early to help Veronica prep and I’ll make sure you get the first pick. Worst case, you don’t go first, and you can just steal it back from whoever picked it. Okay?”

“Fine.” He adds slowly, “What do you want in return?”

Kevin feigns being offended. “What? Is it a crime to make sure my friend has a good time at a party?”

Jughead eyes him suspiciously and Kevin rolls his eyes. “There is no ulterior motive, I swear. Just promise me that you’ll wear that green sweater I got you for your birthday last year? It’s a little more festive than your current selection of flannel.”

“Hey! Most of my flannels are plaid and quite festive, thank you. But I’ll wear the sweater just for you.”

“That’s the spirit!” He picks up a book sitting on Jughead’s desk. “Oh, that reminds me. Did you have a chance to visit that bookstore I told you about?”

“No, not yet. Now that you mention it, might be a good place to find something for this party.”

“There we go, use that big brain of yours. Alright, I’ve got to get back to work. See you this weekend!”

He sighs and lets his eyes close and head fall back in exhaustion for a few moments before looking at the time on his phone. He decides that 4:15 p.m. isn’t that late in the afternoon and he picks up the coffee cup that JB had gifted him last year with a typewriter on it, and heads to the break room for one more cup of coffee.

 

\--

 

It’s Christmastime in New York City, which means there are significantly more people out on the streets than normal, and that means significantly more people who don’t understand sidewalk etiquette. Jughead exits the building where his office is and is trying to untangle his headphones out of his messenger bag when he nearly collides with a group of older women whose arms are laden with department store bags.

He brushes it off and opens up a holiday playlist on Spotify. He’s not typically someone who actively listens to Christmas music this of year, and _never ever_ before Thanksgiving, but after Kevin’s comment about him being Grinch-like he supposes he should at least try be a little more festive as he walks to pick out a gift to take Veronica and Archie’s party. He hits shuffle and Jimmy Eat World’s cover of _“Last Christmas”_ fills his ears.

 _Well_ , he thinks, _It could have been “Frosty the Snowman”_ and continues walking down West Broadway to catch the train.

The platform is crowded because of the commute hour and the holidays. But instead of the usual cacophony of grunts from New Yorkers ending their work day, Jughead notices that there seems to be less grump and more laughter. There’s a saxophone player at one end of the station playing a Christmas song and the people around him seem more upbeat than they usually are. He would be loath admit it out loud, but he doesn’t totally hate Christmastime in New York City.  

 

\--

 

It’s cold when he exits the station, and he wraps his coat a little tighter around himself when he feels the bite of December air. It hasn’t started snowing yet, but he can tell that it is on its way.

The bookstore is tucked away in a small alcove of buildings, and only accessible through a courtyard; identifiable solely by the iron and wooden sign in the shape of an open book hanging above the door.

As he enters and shakes off the bit of snow that had fallen onto his beanie, he’s struck by the smell of old books. A smell he’s loved since he was little and reminds of spending many nights and weekends inside the old Riverdale library.

The walls are lined from floor to ceiling with bookcases, newer releases and some that look much older. At-a-glance, there are long aisles that span all of the way to the back of the store, and more upstairs. Jughead feels a little like a kid in a candy store.

It’s quiet, except for the sounds of Bing Crosby crooning a Christmas tune from the record player that is stationed behind the large desk to his right. It’s barely past 6:30 p.m., the lights are on, and there is soft music playing--the store certainly looks _open._ Still, he finds it strange that there seems to be no customers or staff around.

“Hello?” he calls. After a moment of silence, he calls out a little louder. “Hello? Uh, are you open?”

He’s met with an obscure female voice coming from upstairs. “Be right down!”

He turns his attention to the true crime novels on display in the bay window facing out into the courtyard and notices that someone has cut out paper snowflakes and strung them from the window. He looks closely around him and there are handmade Christmas decorations strewn about the store--paper garlands on the bookcases, more snowflakes and even red and green twinkling lights across the balcony upstairs. It all feels soft and inviting, and there is warm feeling spread through his chest.

“Hi there! How can I help you today?”

Jughead turns at the voice. “Hi. I’m looking for--” He stops when he sees the woman attached to the voice, and the brightest green eyes he’s ever seen staring back at him.

When he doesn’t answer right away, she prompts him. “Doing a little holiday shopping?”

“Yes...uh, that.” He stutters and catches himself before continuing. “I’m going to a Christmas party and need to pick up something for a gift swap.”

 _This woman is very, very pretty,_ he thinks.

“Well you’re in luck!” she says excitedly as she sets down a stack of books she’d carried down the stairs onto the large desk. “We just got in a bunch of new releases. I’m not sure what genre you’re looking for, but we also carry quite a few rare books.” She gestures to a bookcase behind the desk enclosed in glass with what Jughead thinks might house several first editions.

He looks over at the window and remembers Kevin’s comment about buying a gift for himself. “Have any other true crime or mystery?”

Her face brightens even more and a smile spreads across her face. “We do. I can show you if you’d like?” She gestures towards one of the long aisleways of books.

“Lead the way.”

He follows behind her a few paces as head down an aisle filled top to bottom with books. He’s concentrating on the books and definitely not the sway of her hips in the jeans she is wearing. _Nope, definitely not looking._

She breaks the silence first. “So is this your first time in the store?” she asks over her shoulder, her blonde ponytail swinging.

“It is. Which is strange, because I thought I knew about every small bookstore within the five boroughs.”

“We’re a little off the radar of most people in the area since we’re nestled in between the buildings.”

They continue walking through the labyrinth of bookcases. The store reminds him of something out of a Harry Potter book, the whole places feels just a little magical. In between some of the bookcases sit large leather chairs, and he can see how it would be easy to lose oneself in the store with a good book. He notices more hand cut snowflakes hanging from the ceiling above them in between the lights. “It’s awfully festive in here.”

She must notice the sarcasm in his tone. “Not a big fan of the holidays?”

He grimaces. “I have been called Scrooge a time or two.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You don’t seem too grumpy, especially with the beanie.” She gestures to the dark grey knitted beanie he’s worn since he was little; he supposes it’s crown like points _could be_ construed as elf-like during the holiday season.

“If that’s the case then, I’m festive all year long.”

She gives him an amused look. “I like it, it’s unique.”

The tips of his ears feel strangely hot all of the sudden.

“So you said you're looking for something for a Christmas party gift swap?”

“Yes,” he relents. “I sort of got guilted into going to my best friend’s fiancé's party and am I’m pretty sure she’d murder me if I show up without something for the gift swap game.”

She chuckles quietly, and it’s a soft sound that makes his face warm. “That sounds like fun, except for the whole murder part.”

He takes in her cheery disposition at the mention of the party. “I assume that you’re a big fan of the holidays and all of the required social gatherings that accompany it?”

She shrugs one shoulder and then winks at him, “Someone had to cut out all of these snowflakes.”

It’s been awhile since Jughead actively wanted to know more about a complete stranger, but he finds himself intrigued by this girl. “So, how long have you worked here?”

“A few years now. I started coming into the store when I was in college and I spent so much time here that eventually the owner offered me a job. I work full time as an assistant editor at a small publishing company now, so I can only work on Fridays, and the weekends.” Her eyes sparkle as she speaks, “I love it here though, it doesn’t really feel like work.”

“Seems like a nice place to spend your time.” He’s reminded of the lack of other customers in the store. “Not too busy on Friday nights?”

There is a little flair of satire to her tone, “No, for some strange reason people must have other things to do on their Friday night than spend time with me in a an old bookstore” He laughs, and she add more quietly. “I don’t mind it so much. New York City is a little loud for me sometimes, and after all it is a bookstore so no customers leaves me plenty of time to read.”

“Sounds like a great Friday night to me.”

She stops walking and looks at him. “Guess we’re kindred spirits then.” There something that flashes as she says it and his knees feel a little wobbly. “Here we go, true crime and mystery.”

He scans some of the titles. “Any recommendations?”

She studies him for a few moments and strokes her chin in faux concentration. “Hmmm. You strike me as the type of person who enjoys Kerouac, Capote and dare I guess...Sartre?” She quirks an eyebrow at him.

_This girl._

“What gave it away? The brooding exterior or sardonic like sense of humor?”

“Not exactly, but I did notice the pin on your bag.” She nods her head towards the bag slung over his shoulder.

(Yet another gift from JB: a small round pin with one of his favorite quotes on it, _“Hell is other peopl_ e.”)

He likes this girl and their banter, and he’s a bit startled by the fact. He faintly hears the words of Veronica lodge in his head, _cuffing season_.

“Good observation.” He adds, “Correct, too.”

Her grin turns smug. “Knew it. If that’s the case...” she reaches for a book on the shelf and he tries not to notice the small sliver of skin that shows when her soft grey sweater rides up a little. “I’d recommend _Conan Doyle for Defense_ by Margalit Fox.”

 As she picks the book from the shelf and hands it to him, their fingers brush and he feels a little spark.

“Thanks.”

He can’t be sure, but her cheeks look a shade pinker. “You’re welcome.” She lingers for a moment and puts her hands in her back pockets. “ I suppose I should let you browse, but if you need anything, I’ll be back up at the desk.” With a smile, she makes her way back towards the front of the store.

As soon as she’s out of sight, he lets out a quiet slow breath.

 

\--

 

Jughead finally manages to pull himself from the aisles an hour later. He’s making his way back towards the front of the store with a few books he’d picked out and hears a soft voice singing along with Christmas song he recognizes.

He sees that she is sitting at the large desk pouring over something and making edits with a red pen. He doesn’t want to scare her so he makes his footsteps a little heavier on the hardwood floor.

She looks up, and he wonders vaguely if she smiles like that for everyone.

“Looks like you’ve found a few things.”

He smiles sheepishly and lays his haul out on the counter: the book she had recommended, a biography about John Lennon for Archie, a coffee table book of Coco Chanel designs for Veronica and a copy of _The Maltese Falcon--_ which he decides to gift himself at the holiday party.

She picks up the last book with interest. “This is one of my favorites! And the one you picked is the special edition cover, that’d be my choice too.”

“It’s been on my list to read for years. And it’s still one of the very few Humphrey Bogart movies I haven’t seen.”

“You’re going to love it, guaranteed.” She takes the rest of the books and starts to ring him up.

While he’s waiting he looks down at the papers she’d been editing; a manuscript of some kind. There are annotations in the margins and editing symbols across the page in red. She’s witty, beautiful _and_ smart, he muses.

“Will that be all?”

He clears his throat, realizing he’s been staring at her a little too long.

“Yes, sorry.  Thanks again for your help today--”

“Betty. My name is Betty Cooper.” She gives him a somewhat shy smile.

 _Betty_. The name suits her well. Everything about her is reminiscent of the Hitchcock blondes that graced the silver screen; stunning, poised and elegant.

She raises an inquiring eyebrow at him. “And you are?”

With wide eyes. “Oh! Right. I’m Jughead Jones.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jughead.”

 _Boy,_ does he like the way his name sounds on her lips.

“I hope you enjoy the books, let me know how you like _The Maltese Falcon._ ” She slips in a bookmark with the store’s logo on the inside front cover and hands his purchases to him from over the desk. “And have fun at your holiday party, _Mr. Grinch_ ,” she teases.

Somehow, it doesn’t sting as much when it comes from her. “Thank you, I’ll try.” He chuckles and tucks the books under one arm. “I’ll see you around, Betty.”

Jughead ducks his head and makes his way outside. He sees her through the window, and she offers him another smile and small wave of her hand.  

His face is warm and his heart thuds a little louder in his chest as he walks down the street. He goes to adjust his beanie, and the bookmark she’d placed inside the cover falls out and onto the sidewalk. He bends over to pick it up and notices handwriting on the back:

_Maybe some time we can compare the book to the movie?_

_-Betty_

Just below the lilting script of her name, in red ink, is a phone number.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays to all! 
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr @bettsc


End file.
